Street dentistry

It seems the latest craze of reality TV, in which the hapless public is the star, is programmes like Embarrassing Illnesses and Street Doctors. Having switched off Embarrassing Illnesses after about 5 minutes, when I realised that people who weren't going to their GP were instead being goaded into stripping off in front of millions of viewers, I was channel hopping today when I was gobsmacked to see another version on BBC1, Street Doctors.

We'll obviously see lots more in this genre so here's a suggestion for the programme-makers. Street Dentists. With the chronic shortage of NHS dentists, I imagine they would be queuing round the block for free dentistry, and what a spectacle it might make. Back to medieval times with crowds milling to watch extractions (thrillingly done without anaesthetic!).

If this turns up on Five in the next few months, I'll direct them here so I can claim my royalties.

Who cares about the Rich List?

The Sunday Times posted its much publicised Rich List again today. Goodness it comes round fast. Bits of info had been leaking for weeks. Sir Paul McCartney is really worth £100 million more than the court was told. Outrageous! (Not). Personally I am very sceptical about these so-called rich lists because part of the secret of success of...er...the rich...is that they squirrel their money away offshore and in investments, and I doubt if even Philip Beresford can get to the true bottom, so to speak, of Sir Paul's fortune.

Does anyone find this old tosh interesting? They somehow concocted a story for the main paper along the lines of "the rich get richer under Labour." Your point is? It does seem odd perhaps but the Labour Party of today bears no relation to the Labour Party of 20 years ago.

It would be far more relevant, and jolting, to see the Poor List. Shock the complacent Sunday Times readers to the core by showing how a lot of people are forced to live on a pittance.

Primitive marketing drives me round the bend

They say an Englishman's home in his castle, and I couldn't agree more. I would be more than happy to have a drawbridge and moat so that I could stop people leafleting the house at all hours of the day.

I had a real Victor Meldew moment today as I surveyed the detritus that makes up most of the post. I'd just spent a good half an hour de-cluttering the house. Considering there are only two of us, there is a lot to de-clutter! John's running gear and associated apparatus (water bottles, heart rate monitor, sheets of paper with stretching exercises, safety pins) seem to find their way all over the house. My hobby - scrapbooking and painting - also extends beyond the lean-to and you find buttons and glitter dust in the most unlikely places.

Anyway, I digress. Having done the de-cluttering, the post then arrived. For those who work at home, a pleasant milestone in the day. (Particularly if accompanied by the doorbell ringing, which means a nice parcel to open). Well, I had a subscription magazine; good, but it came in a plastic bag with several of those wretched inserts. A Lakeland catalogue. A Boden catalogue. More plastic, a whole sheaf of inserts from Lakeland, order forms, vouchers. Sheesh, why do these people still send me catalogues when they should KNOW they I only order online? Why are companies' marketing methods still so primitive? And both of them are always sending out new catalogues, as do Toast, whose "tastefully" lit catalogue is so gloomy the clothes look foul.

Then there was a letter from the bank. Apparently I have been chosen (along with millions of others) to be upgraded to some new type of account, which, reading between the lines, is just them promoting their call centre (which I already use) and having people interrogate me every time I enter the branch about why I haven't yet spoken to my "personal banking manager." Not to mention someone from the call centre ringing me and trying to talk me into loans, ISAs or whatever else they're trying to flog.

I noticed the letter gave a number to call if you didn't want to take advantage of this new service so I rang it. It took me to the call centre. Ideally, I should have been able to signal my "NO THANKS" by either entering some numbers into the phone, on my online bank account, or by ringing a number which was automatically answered by the "no thanks" person. Even better, I should have been offered the chance to opt in or opt out. But again, it's just poor marketing.

And while I'm ranting, I'll tell you another thing that makes me mad. MORI amd Gallup, the poll people, keep sending people round with clipboards to do surveys. They have called twice now about getting us to do a survey on buying new cars. It's quite hard to get rid of them, as if it's our duty to speak to them. One of them very indignantly said "we do pay you know,". I don't care what they're paying: I'm not divulging lots of private information which then goes God knows where.

Lucinda gets a stay of execution

The Apprentice
Ever since we first saw Lucinda, looking as if she was going to a wedding in a pink coat and hat, I knew she would not be progressing. As the challenges unfolded, poor Lucinda seemed completely miscast, unable to do sales, unable to use a PC. Was there anything she could do?

Well, last night we learnt that Lucinda can manage. And God knows,it's a rare enough skill among the rest of the candidates. She was calm, organised and managed to motivate her team. She made sure that she had a #2, allegedly with sales expertise, who was Lindi. Lindi went off with Raef and Jennifer to pre-qualify leads and attend the sales meetings.

It was clear as the programme progressed that Lindi and Jennifer were being set up for ultimate disgrace and failure. They were constantly crowing about what a great team they were and how they were on a roll. So it was quite amusing to find that they'd lost, and that three of their meetings were with firms who had their own ice-cream maker (the challenge was to supply a new range of ice creams to London).

Claire, she of the meaty arms, was very lucky to win the challenge, given that she and her sub-team were utter flakes when it came to pre-qualifying leads and setting up sales meetings.

With Claire's victorious team out of the way, it was easy enough to see that risk assessor Lucinda was actually at no risk of being fired. Cruel, chilly Jennifer and dozy, naive Lindi were definitely in the firing line. Jennifer remained because she (allegedly) has sales expertise, although that it debatable given her predilection to give exclusivity deals on a whim.

Of the rest of the candidates, Raef showed remarkable restraint and was lucky to emerge unscathed after being tethered to Lindi and Jennifer. Lee is beginning to show some class. "Hoorah" I thought, as he spoke up for Lucinda. Most unlike treacherous sneak Alex, who had views about Claire's mananagement style but was too cowardly to air them.

The other candidate who stands out for the wrong reasons is Helene, a fierce, rude woman who quite obviously lies. I have to believe Lucinda, and not Helene, when she said that Helene had called Jennifer a snake in the grass. I bet she did!

Some more of the old random

Went to Swindon yesterday (and another visit tomorrow, Holy God!) and the random thoughts were whirling round my head like those of Julie Christie's character in Away From Her (quite good BTW but a very rose tinted view of Altzheimer's).
Firstly there was the excitement of seeing a Norbert Dentressangle lorry, even if it did cut me up in a piece of thoughtless driving on the M25 (would not have happened with Bailey's equine horse feeds, I fancy). Pictured is the very gent himself, Monsieur Dentressangle. Doesn't he look twinkly? Not your usual old haulier, methinks.

Seems to be a landmark week for wimmin's rights. Just when I was thinking there were no more rights to be won, I hear that an MP is tabling a Commons motion to get the constitution changed so that the monarch's first born becomes the heir, regardless of sex. When you think about it, it is absolutely preposterous that a woman would have to stand aside, as first born, in this day and age!

Then I heard that some stuffy old "Real Tennis" club has finally agreed to accept women after a long battle, on the grounds that the wretched sport will die out unless they can encourage younger players - which includes women. Amazing.

I was thinking about the London Marathon too. For several years I have stood in wind, rain and boiling sunshine watching J run his many international marathons (and some less glamorous, like the Grunty Fen half marathon). Well, on an impulse, I have entered the ballot for next year's marathon. Another Holy God is called for here. I am not a natural runner; I have a strange gait (I somehow tiptoe), but after watching the marathon last weekend, I noticed that even some of the fast runners have a strange gait. Plus, I want to get fit; losing weight becomes harder as you get older and I want to live to a ripe old age, whizzing around with no need of a zimmer. So this week alone, I have hauled my weary carcass out three times and have nearly reached the 5k milestone.

The Apprentice tonight. Yippee. It's still hard at this stage to separate the field, although I do know that the despicable Claire, upon whose hefty arms a family of four could easily be fed for a week, for a week, needs to go, as does the treacherous Alex. Alex with a chip on his shoulder about nowt being posh, who thinks he's playing such a clever game by refusing to be no 2 last week, lest he end up getting the blame if the task was lost. Tsk, so transparent. The only two who seem to have any ounce of business sense about them are regrettably Rafe, although he's surely too posh and smooth for Sir Alan, and the bloke with the stubble and piercing blue eyes who took the photos last week for the winning team.

And then finally there was my dream. Ken Livingstone called at our house, canvassing! Well Ken, you'd be on a hiding to nothing where I live (as Boris friendly a place as you could get), though you can count on my vote because in my view Boris is Bonkers. Anyway, in my dream, being the true scrapbooker that I am, I called for J to take a photo of me and Ken together so that I could scrap the momentous moment!

Bluebell Field

I haven't seen a field of bluebells since I was a child. But, thanks to an article in Homes & Gardens, which mentioned how you can locate a bluebell field courtesy of the Woodland Trust, I was determined not to miss out this year.

As luck would have it, John actually saw a bluebell field on his run in the forest this morning. As we turned the corner, and it came into view, it was a breathtaking sight, a deserted and hidden glen of blue stretching as far as the eye could see. And the wonderful thing was there was no-one else there, except for an elderly couple who visit the bluebell wood every year and have done since the old boy was a child.

Heart warming achievements

Well done to everyone who took part in the London Marathon, from the supreme elite athletes at the front to the fun runners/walkers at the back. John did well, finishing within his four hour window, and his "posse," a group of ladies from the Orion Harriers he has been coaching, all did extremely well, one of them steaming past him in the final mile. The posse were kind enough to give me a bunch of flowers later, but it was them who did all the hard work. I've had a lot of fun hearing about the training from John and some of the exchanges:
- "Can we start at 8.30am instead of 8 and can we do 14 miles instead of 18?"
- "Who's going to tell John?"
During the downpour, as I anxiously scanned the thousands of runners to spot John, a mile from Tower Bridge, I expatiated on the nature of running. Running creates special people. We all know the health benefits; we read about it everyday as the fat idle journalists lambast Britain for obese teenagers, transfats, drinking wine in pregnancy, large measures of wine and type 2 diabetes. But what I have discovered is that once running gets into the pysche, people not only become fitter but they become more well rounded; more advanced as people.
I got talking to a 75 year old veteran member of the Orion Harriers, Ken, who has run all 27 London Marathons. I asked him if he would be having a rest period now (even J does) but he laughed and said no, he would be doing a swimming marathon for charity later this week.
And then you consider Buster, the 101 year old, running a marathon at his age. Amazing when most teenagers could not even contemplate it.
I suddenly started to feel guilty, that I've always been half hearted when I've tried running, and decided that I should try again. With that in mind, I'm now signed up for the Adidas women's challenge 5k in September. Three miles is hardly anything, and I could probably do it now, albeit very slowly, but I hope the race experience will spur me on to better things. It would be very cool to run London next year and have John enduring the misery of being a spectator for once!

The Apprentice: who let the dunces out?

I found this week's episode of The Apprentice a bit boring. They had to do a lunch and dinner service at a pub. I was so gobsmacked at the inept performance of the boys' team that it took the shine off the whole programme for me. Surely they have watched previous series? They didn't have one iota of business acumen. They were printing flyers before they had even properly costed their menu, and not just how much they would charge for each item but their costing on profits v overheads. They then went scurrying off to Tesco several times, instead of going to a wholesaler or negotiating a deal with a local shop.
The guy that got voted off was so dull and bland I can't even remember his name.

Terminal 5 a pleasant experience

I wrote disparagingly about Terminal 5 at Heathrow Airport recently, following the baggage handling debacle. I thought it was a pity that this had overshadowed the new terminal and the fact it opened on schedule and on budget.
Well, having now passed through T5 on the way to San Francisco, I'm pleased to report it was a very pleasant experience.
I flew out on Sunday when there was quite a heavy (for London) snowfall, and this in itself presents difficulties. As the pilot put it, "the UK doesn't do snow very well." So we did get delayed on the runway for some time while they did the de-icing, but I have been delayed at Munich for the same reason in the past and they are good at snow.
I took hand luggage to avoid any baggage delays, but Anonymous did check in luggage and it was despatched on the carousel 10 minutes after we landed.
As far as the building itself is concerned, very light, airy and spacious. There is a policy of only making announcements for the final call, so it's surprisingly tranquil. It's quite similar to Munich's new(ish) Lufthansa terminal, and better in some respects (there are several shops at the gate!) but the money spent on the finish - for example Munich's marbled floors - is obviously nowhere near as much.
It's not a place to be if you don't like escalators. We had to go down several on arrival back from the US, and my brain is still trying to figure that out.
One very positive thing is the friendliness of the staff, both BA's and those in the airside shops. I bought some headphones in Dixon's and they offered to charge the battery while I waited for my flight. I observed that BA's staff, while under huge pressure (a lot of short haul flights had been cancelled because of the snow) were unfailingly courteous and friendly even though a lot of people were shouting and frowning. There is even someone on board the minibus from the long term car park to help with your bags.
And of course the best thing of all is that there are none of the lurid, psychedelic carpets that the rest of Heathrow inflicts on us!

The boys get the girls in a spin

The Apprentice UK - episode two

In last night's Apprentice we were treated to a new task - running a laundry - and the girls were unceremoniously taken to the cleaners by the boys.

In a complete turnaround from the first programme, the girls' team, led by the dogmatic and bossy Jenny, came across as inept, blundering and divided. They didn't do the most basic of research - like ringing a laundry to get an idea of prices - and consequently demanded just under five thousand pounds for a job which would normally cost around two hundred. They didn't even learn from that but then grossly under-charged for doing the contents of someone's entire wardrobe for a tenner.

Shazia, who was fired,(pictured top right)came across as quite organised and efficient at the start of the show, devising a process for identifying the laundry. Essential for the girls, who were getting their custom mostly from individuals. Unfortunately for Shazia, her suggestion to leave early to secure the irons back at the house was agreed by Jenny (they should have sent someone else), and the process promptly fell apart so that several items of clothing got mixed up.

It came as a surprise to Shazia, and those in the audience of the "You're Fired" programme that she went; however, as Michelle Mone pointed out, it's all down to boardroom survival, and she was pathetic in the boardroom. Jenny was very steely and determined to talk over Shazia and the inconsequential Lucinda.

As for the boys, they really shone this week. They immediately got an idea of laundry charges; they beat the girls in winning a hotel order and they managed to overcome their class divide, largely down to Raef's charisma as leader and Simon's tenacity in rolling up his sleeves and getting the job done.

It's still early days and some of the would-be Apprentices have hardly opened their mouths, but I have high hopes for Simon, Alex (the leader from last week), and Jennifer, the Irish marketing consultant.

Jennifer Maguire
She stayed very quiet in last night's show, in the manner of Christina from last year, and I could see why. As the girls started bickering in the boardroom, she had a think bubble that said "I am not part of this. I am too good for them." Marketing people don't always fare well on The Apprentice so let's hope she doesn't revert to blue sky visions, story boards, brainstorms and strategies when it's her turn to lead a task. Sir Alan doesn't rate any of that.

The two that stand out as likely to be next in the firing line are Lucinda - does Sir Alan really need a beret-wearing aromatherapist in risk management? - and Michael. I can't say why Michael exactly, but he is very annoying and childish.

Today's Road Rap

London to Swindon, just under two hours. Left earlier than usual at 5.45am and was rewarded by being in the office before eight.

Today's collection of random thoughts and nonsense:

1) I am wearing my new Edna Everage style brown glasses with diamante. Now normally I wear contact lenses, but lately I'm finding that "middle aged / old" thing of having to hold books and newspapers at a distance because my normally perfect up- close vision is compromised by my blind-as-a-bat distance vision. Anyway, I now have a new pair of specs and plan to wear them all the time, except when we go out in the evening when I will revert to lenses (vanity, readers). Well, I haven't worn them before for driving and it is a slightly bizarre experience. These are varifocals, which I took to right away with no problems. But in the car, I found you have to keep your head in the same position, very steady. If you lift up your head, you go out of vision. Eeek. Now I must drive with my nose in the air (probably to disguise a double chin) because this kept happening. I will be worn out at this rate.

2) Boris v Ken. Yes, I have received my electoral registration card. So yah boo to those of you who cruelly say I live in Essex and not London. Anyway, Boris was finally seen on TV last night starting his campaign after seemingly being kept out of sight by Tory HQ. Now he is very winsome, and was good on Have I Got News For You?but does he really have the stature and gravitas to run Britain's largest city? I'm afraid leopards and spots comes to mind, as Mr Paddick so helpfully pointed out. So it's looking like the newt fancier for me.

3) No sightings of the triumvirate (Baileys, Dentressangle, Wilkinson). This is getting boring.

4) Do you remember Sunny Smiles? I don't know why it crossed my mind, but it did. When I was a kid and down at the Meths (the Methodist church) I used to get given little booklets of children's photos and you had to "sell" the photos. Inevitably the, er, less attractive children would be left in the booklet. I wonder what happened to the kids and if this is mentioned in any detail on the web, as it would now be perceived as hideously non PC.